


Insomnia

by Watch_this



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Arkham Asylum Staff are Bad Doctors, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Feelings, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jon's oblivious, M/M, its more fun than it sounds i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24653104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watch_this/pseuds/Watch_this
Summary: Why Jonathan Crane should really, really have worked out faster that he had a crush on the Riddler
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma
Comments: 4
Kudos: 88





	Insomnia

The first time Jonathan woke up in Edward Nygma’s bed, he dismissed it as coincidence that he’d actually slept through the night there. It wasn’t often that Jonathan managed to sleep through the night, but eventually the exhaustion would pile up enough to manage it. It had been a couple of weeks since that had last happened, so when he groggily swam back to consciousness after a mercifully dreamless night with the late morning sun streaming through the curtains, he told himself that was all it was. Cumulative exhaustion, by coincidence on the same night he fell into bed with the newest addition to the Gotham rogues gallery.

The bed was empty, but Jonathan could smell coffee from deeper in the apartment, and hear the noises of someone moving around that told him Edward was probably in the kitchen. He stretched, shaking his head at the unfamiliar disorientation that followed deep sleep, and began hunting around the floor for the clothes he’d hastily discarded the night before. Tugging on his shirt, Jonathan winced as it dragged across his back – Edward’s fingernails had apparently left more permanent marks.

Heading out into the main room of the apartment, Jonathan found Edward already dressed and hunched over his laptop. “Sleep well?” he asked, without looking up. Jonathan was amused to see is laptop keyboard glowed green – newer rogues were always so overly dedicated to their chosen aesthetic. He privately thought it would be a surprise if Edward lasted more than another couple of months.

“Better than expected.” Jonathan grunted. “Have you seen my jacket? Or my belt?”

“Still on the floor near the door.” Said Edward, gesturing vaguely with his coffee mug.

“Well,” Jonathan said, tugging on the remaining items. “See you around.” He didn’t care that Edward didn’t even acknowledge him as he shut the door. He was doing Jonathan a favour, by not adding any complications.

~~

Another time Jonathan woke up in Edward Nygma’s bed, he told himself he’d slept through the night because of the alcohol. They’d started the night scheming, going over blueprints and schematics ‘til Edward brought out a bottle to “clear their heads”. They’d kept drinking until the bottle was empty and they’d started on another, until Jonathan was too relaxed to push Edward off when he settled in Jonathan’s lap, or when Edward smirked at him with that glint in his eyes and kissed him hard and hungrily. Now Jonathan felt slow and heavy in the aftermath of proper sleep, though his head still pounded and his collarbone throbbed where Edward had bitten too hard.

He hid his face in the crook of his arm to block out the painful sunlight streaming in, but was interrupted moments later by the bedroom door being kicked open, and Edward’s voice saying “Come on you old bastard, I need you out.”

Jonathan made an undignified noise as his headache pulsed at the noise, and tried to bury himself further under the pillows.

“Fine,” Edward said. “But I’m getting you out one way or another. I want my bedroom freed from your haunting presence.”

There was a pause, then Jonathan was gasping at the shock of cold liquid on his bare chest – Edward had tossed a glass of water on him. “Fucker,” he swore, rubbing at his face with both palms “couldn’t have been more gentle, you fucking sadist?”

“Impossible, I’m afraid,” said Edward, tossing Jonathan’s abandoned pants to him. “Or at least, this was the most efficient method I had at my disposal.”

Jonathan pulled his clothes back on, towelling at the remaining water with his plaid shirt. “You’re lucky I’m not in the mood to retaliate,” he said.

“Hangover getting in the way of your revenge, Dr Crane?” Edward said. He looked infuriatingly put together, freshly showered and wide awake, with a smirk that said he was enjoying Jonathan’s plight a little too much.

Jonathan just shook his head, refusing to take the bait for the moment, and headed for the door. He was too hungover for this.

~~

Another time Jonathan slept through the night in Edward’s bed, he told himself he’d been exhausted anyway. He’d let the Scarecrow out to play for a couple of nights, and he and Edward had collapsed together in the only bed in one of Edward’s dingier safehouses on the outskirts of Gotham.

Maybe it was the effort of shifting who was in control of his body, or maybe it was Scarecrow’s habit of pushing Jonathan’s body to his physical limits just to spite him, but Jonathan was always left exhausted afterwards. And aching as though he’d been trampled by a particularly vicious horse. Painfully slowly, Jonathan reached up to rub the grit from his eyes and check for injuries.

“Scarecrow?” Edward mumbled, sounding half asleep as well.

Jonathan grunted in response. “Not now. This is the doctor speaking.” He winced at the loud cracking noise his wrist made as he stretched. “And the doctor wants to know what the fuck Scarecrow did – I remember, ah, remember a crowd of people in a hallway somewhere. Did he have his scythe?”

“Mm.” Edward fumbled for his glasses. Jonathan had never seen him half asleep like this, and was surprised at how young the Riddler looked. His hair was soft and rumpled, and without his trademark “I-know-something-you-don’t-know” expression, he looked – peaceful. Sweet, even. “Swinging that thing like he was mowing a damn field. Wait a minute before you get up, or -”

Jonathan, who had been halfway through getting out of bed, let out an undignified yelp as one ankle crumpled under him.

“Or that’ll happen.”

~~

As it went on, Jonathan told himself it had something to do with the luxuries of Edward’s apartment. For someone like himself, who was admittedly unused to Egyptian cotton sheets and expensive mattresses, the change was what let him sleep, and let the Scarecrow’s voice stay silent. It had nothing to do with the fact that it was Edward’s bed he was sleeping in.

They hadn’t even bothered thinking of an excuse this time – Edward had just called him to day he’d bought bourbon, and did Jon want to come over? Jonathan had said no, of course. And then thought about it for three hours. Then admitted defeat, and called to say he could come over that night, if Edward still wanted.

They’d put on a movie in the background, but Edward guessed the reveal within the first ten minutes, and Jonathan got bored of critiquing the poorly constructed characters, so they didn’t pay much attention to it. Edward talked about plans he had in motion, and had spent a while trying to explain to Jonathan exactly what bitcoin was. His exasperation had been adorable.

They’d had sex too, but it had almost been an afterthought – a nice finish to the night. And if Jonathan was reading the alarm clock placed awkwardly behind his head correctly, after that he’d slept for ten hours. Blessed deep, dreamless sleep.

He was pretty sure he knew why he slept best in Edward’s bed though – it had to be the ridiculously expensive bed. Possibly the psychological impact of Edward’s weight next to him had also helped – Jonathan had read about weighted blankets helping with anxiety before, and now the scientist side of him was already rationalising. It wasn’t Edward’s presence that helped of course, just his mass. Like a weighted blanket that got up and lived its own life during the day.

Perhaps if he just got his own weighted blanket, he wouldn’t have to bother with Edward Nygma anymore.

~~

The next time was in Jonathan’s bed, which meant he had to abandon that hypothesis.

Edward had turned up mid-afternoon, which meant it’d taken a while of him stood at the door continuously ringing the bell to make Jonathan stir from his makeshift laboratory. When he opened the door and saw Edward, he made no move to let him in but asked “yes?”

“Let me in.” Edward snapped. “I’m fucking freezing out here, and the GCPD are crawling all over my apartment.”

“Hmm.” Jonathan made no movement. “And why would they be doing that?”

“They think I stole a painting from the Gotham museum’s special event last night and am hiding it in there somewhere. Which is blatantly ridiculous. I don’t know what they expect to find in there, other than my vinyl collection and some particularly fetching suits that cost more than their yearly salaries combined. So, Jon. Fancy letting me in?”

“Did you steal the painting?”

“Well obviously,” Edward sighed, pushing past Jonathan and rubbing his hands together to try and warm his fingers, “Oswald’s keeping it safe for me. For a fee, of course.”

Jonathan had tried to keep working, but Edward’s initial insatiable interest, and subsequent insatiable boredom, meant he was obliged to give up on his formulas for the day. He looked over to where Edward was sat on the futon, currently serving double duty as Jonathan’s couch and bed, staring up at the ceiling.

He looked over when he caught Jonathan looking at him, and asked “Why is your blanket so heavy?”

“None of your business.” Jonathan wasn’t embarrassed. He wasn’t, he told himself. It just wasn’t any of Ed’s business.

“Oh, is it one of those weighted blanket things I’ve heard so much about? Thought those were for people with trouble sleeping.” Edward paused for a minute, as though pantomiming being lost in thought. “Though if its human contact you’re missing,” he said with a grin, “I sure wouldn’t mind a little contact right now. Unless you’d rather be doing your precious formulas than me.”

Jonathan got up and came over, half irritated and half amused by Edward’s interruptions. “Fine, you needy bastard,” he said, fondly mocking, “You’ve got all of my attention.” He reached for Edward, but felt Edward shove him down so he was lying on his back instead.

“Not so fast this time, Jonny.” Edward grinned down at him, with excitement and lust in his eyes. “This time I’ve already got plans to ride you so damn hard we break your shitty couch.”

Edward had been as good as his word – now that he was properly awake, Jonathan could distinctly hear the slats creaking in a way they hadn’t before. He was also aware that he’d slept for hours undisturbed, either by the Scarecrow, or any horrors from the more distant past.

This was worrying for several reasons – Jonathan was first and foremost a psychologist. There was an obvious pattern developing, with the times that he was sleeping through the night. On the other hand, correlation did not necessarily imply causation – possibly there was something else that coincided with Edward’s presence that helped him sleep. He supposed Edward was usually exhausting. Although that wasn’t often how it worked, maybe Edward was what it took to make him tired enough to sleep well.

~~

The first time they talked about it was midway through a rant about the Arkham Asylum doctors.

“And then,” Edward was saying, around his own laughter. “And then he tries to recommend origami!”

“Dear lord.” Jonathan’s laughing too, but he’s paying more attention to the way Edward throws his head back when he laughs, and how his freckles almost disappear when his cheeks are flushed.

“Says origami will give me something to focus on – wait for it – and something to take out my frustrations on! As if folding paper will long occupy me!” he pauses for breath.   
They’re sat on the floor of Edward’s apartment, post Edward’s most recent asylum breakout. Jonathan had to admit, he’s been impressed with how long the newer rogue has lasted. And impressed with how incompetent the current asylum staff must be to fail to diagnose his blatant narcissism and compulsive behaviour.

“Go on, Jon.” Edward says. “You’ve been getting institutionalised for years longer than me. What labels have you amassed?”

“Nothing that shouldn’t be obvious.” Jonathan said, scratching the back of his neck. “Dissociative identity disorder, manic depressive tendencies, antisocial personality disorder, insomnia -”

“What?” Edward asked. “You’re not an insomniac. No way. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you have a nightmare. You sleep so deeply it looks like you’re emerging from deep water when you finally wake up.”

“Ahh, well. Guess it goes up and down. The whole not sleeping thing.” Jonathan could practically see the cogs whirring in Edward’s mind as he put it together unnervingly fast.

“Wait. Tell me if this is just my ego talking, which we both know is more than possible, but do you – do you only sleep well when you sleep with me?” Jonathan could have sworn that Edward looked almost nervous when he said that.

“Well, I don’t know if you personally being there has anything to do with it…”

“You tried that heavy blanket, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah. For all the good it did.”

Edward looks ridiculously smug. “What can I say, I must be good for you! And that’s the first time that’s been true for anyone!”

Jonathan looks away, and tries to supress his smile – Edward’s force of charisma makes his happiness too damn contagious.

~~

It was also Arkham Asylum that was responsible for Edward witnessing Jonathan’s insomnia first hand. Their cells were placed opposite each other – which they both agreed was just poor planning considering how often the two criminals were known to work together, but neither of them were complaining. The arrangement also gave them opportunities to talk quietly, though sadly not to share a bed.

For the first week, Edward doesn’t see Jonathan sleep at all. He’s pretty sure Jonathan must have slept at some point, in order to still be standing, but when he looks over to Jonathan’s cell he only ever sees him reading. The shadows under Jonathan’s eyes are growing though, and he’s looking paler and skinnier than usual. Closer to how he looked when Edward first met him.

At the end of the first week, Scarecrow takes over. Deprived of his usual toxin or scythe in Arkham, Scarecrow instead makes do with cruder methods of spreading fear. Edward’s seen some unpleasant sights as one the Gotham rogues, but he’s pretty sure that his partner in crime clawing out another patient’s eyeball and popping it between his teeth like a grape, all the while with a sickening grin on his face, is one of the worst.

After Jonathan returns from solitary, Edward sees more evidence of him sleeping. He also happens to witness one of Jonathan’s nightmares.

Edward’s habit of reading late into the night while confined means he noticed Jonathan fall asleep a few hours ago. The asylum is never quiet, even in the dead of night. He can hear the beeping of medical monitors, the cries and yells of other patients, the noises of the staff moving about, and the sounds of the ancient building settling. And, in the cell across from his, he hears movement.

He looks over in time to see Jonathan sit bolt upright, as though suddenly electrocuted. He’s breathing hard, like he’s been running, and there’s sweat on his face that shines in the dimmed fluorescent lights. He doesn’t turn to look at Edward’s cell, but puts one hand over his heart, and stays sitting there for a long while, until the rapid movement of his ribcage slows.

Edward can’t see his face, but he knows that Jonathan is badly, desperately, afraid.

~~

They break out of Arkham together during the Joker’s next little stunt at the asylum. In the inevitable chaos, no one notices two of Gotham’s most wanted criminals disappearing out into the night, the guards being too distracted by the explosions echoing throughout the grounds.

They head to Edward’s apartment, since it’s nicer, and also since Jonathan still hasn’t replace his futon, and it now lies at a slightly jaunty angle where the slats on one side are broken. The apartment is untouched, of course – one of the jobs Edward apparently pays Query and Echo for is to keep his place undisturbed while he’s incarcerated.

As soon as they get in Edward heads for the shower, telling Jonathan to help himself to anything he likes in the kitchen. Jonathan’s half tempted to try following Edward into the shower, but knows from experience that Edward likes to remain undisturbed for his first post asylum shower – some sort of little private ritual before he re-joins the real world. Privately, Jonathan thinks it has more to do with having routines that he finds upsetting to have disrupted.

He helps himself to the takeout container in the fridge that looks least likely to crawl away if he picks it up, and waits. Edward takes his time, but eventually emerges looking more like himself. He still pushes Jonathan away when Jonathan tries to steal a kiss though, and Jonathan looks at him quizzically.

“Sorry, Jonny.” Edward pats him on the shoulder consolingly. “After seeing Scarecrow chomping on someone else’s eyeball, I’m not going anywhere near your mouth ‘til I’ve also seen you brush your teeth about, say, twenty times.”

“Ah, so that’s what he did.” Jonathan turned away, shrugging. “He usually self-harms in Arkham, but I couldn’t see any scars. And the guards just kept telling me I knew what I did. Anyone important, was it?”

“Nope.” Edward glanced at the takeout container, then wrinkled his nose in disgust. Rooting through a cupboard he pulled out a box of root beer flavoured pop tarts, and apparently deciding they were a superior option, settled on those. “One of Joker’s henchmen, I think. So no stranger to the risk of grievous bodily harm.”

Jonathan hummed in agreement, ran one hand through his hair, and yawned widely.

“Want to go to bed?” Edward asked.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow.

“Not like that! Just asking if you wanted to sleep. You know, properly sleep.”

“Fine.” Jonathan turned and headed for the bedroom. “I guess I could do with -” he was cut off by another yawn, “a quick nap.”

Edward grabbed his laptop, apparently intending to waste no time getting caught up on the world outside the asylum, and his box of pop tarts. Jonathan tugged off his shoes, and flopped onto the bed, sighing in relief.

“If you’re working, you can leave the light on.” He mumbled into the pillows.

“Nah, I came prepared.” Edward flipped open his laptop, and smirked as the keyboard and edging of the screen lit up glowing green. Jonathan just grunted in response, and curled against Edward’s side.

Edward carded his fingers though Jonathan’s hair, feeling him relax under the touch, and watched his breathing slow as Jonathan sank almost immediately into sleep.

“Sleep well, Jonny.” He smiled. “Pleasant dreams.”


End file.
